


wipe the tears from your eyes

by Adrianna99



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Canon Compliant, Crying, Don't copy to another site, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Minor Character Death, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 09:23:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17722502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adrianna99/pseuds/Adrianna99
Summary: Viktor’s world wasending.For so long, he had pinned his brand, his identity, every ounce of his self-worth, on his ability to win.  And now, on the heels of his worst free skate in literallyyears, he could no longer skate.  The doctor had said so- absolutely no skating on a broken ankle.  And if Viktor couldn’t skate, Viktor couldn’t win.  And if he couldn’t win… then what was the point, even?Viktor held it together until Yakov dropped him off at his apartment and helped him manage his crutches with the elevator before leaving him alone with strict orders to rest and recover.  But as soon as the door closed behind the coach Viktor dropped his crutches and sank to the ground, curled around his horrible, clunky cast, sobbing.[Five times Viktor or Yuuri cried alone + one time they didn't have to]





	wipe the tears from your eyes

**Author's Note:**

> listen...... i know i have deadlines out the wazoo.... and a wip that hasn't been updated in almost a month..... but consider....... viktor and yuuri crying.........
> 
> (the minor character death tag is for vicchan's canonical death. there's also some depiction/discussion of anxiety and depression)
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Yuuri couldn’t seem to do anything right.

Every spin wobbled, every jump ended with his crashing into the ice, and even his step sequences were uneven and disjointed and  _ugly._ He could tell without looking that his new American rink mates were laughing at him- he could hear them talking in English by the boards, whispering and giggling, but his English wasn’t yet good enough to pick out more than his name, a couple of times.

Yuuri gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, his breathing harsh in the back of his throat as he attempted another quad toe loop.The ice was as cold and unforgiving as always when he hit it, his shoulder taking the brunt of the fall as Yuuri landed with a grunt.

“Alright, Yuuri,” Coach Celestino called from the edge of the ice.He sounded concerned, worried, and Yuuri bristled at the thought of being patronized.“I think that’s enough for today.”

Yuuri struggled to his feet, his breath quick and on the edge of frantic.“I am fine,” he called back, hating the way his voice shook, hating the way he said words in English with his awful, embarrassingly thick accent.

“Yuuri,” Celestino said, and this time there was an edge of steel to his voice.“Practice over.”

Yuuri bit his lip so hard he tasted blood in his mouth, but skated to the edge of the rink.He stepped off the ice and fumbled for his skate guards without looking, unable to make eye contact with his new coach.

“Yuuri,” Celestino said in a gentler voice.“Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Yuuri said again, all he could manage without his voice cracking again.“I will see you tomorrow.” Celestino sighed, but if he said anything else Yuuri didn’t hear him as he hurried towards the locker room.

“Yuuri!” someone called, and Yuuri paused for a moment, glancing over his shoulder to see one of his rink mates waving to him.“You looked good out there,” she added, and Yuuri was absolutely sure in that moment that her wide smile was mocking him.Without answering he hurried off, almost hitting another skater with the door to the locker room as he shoved it open.

Yuuri managed to make it to the shower before breaking down, leaning against the wall with the water pounding down on his head, his clothes and skates in a heap on the floor just outside.He had forgotten to take off his glasses, but Yuuri couldn’t make himself care as he cried, his body bent almost double with one hand pressed to the cold tile wall, his head stuffy, his ribs aching as he shook.He tried to keep his tears quiet but for the occasional sniffle, but it was hard to completely silence his wracking sobs.

Yuuri sank to the floor and pulled his knees up to his chest, hiding his face.He bumped his forehead against his knee once before hugging himself tighter, trembling.

He  _hated_  this, he  _hated_  everything so much.Everything in America was loud and strange and foreign, and Yuuri couldn’t understand half of what his rink mates said because they talked too fast, and now everyone knew exactly how terrible of a skater was, and he felt like his life was imploding around his ears.He missed his mom and dad, his sister, his dog, his friends, his town, his language, his favorite food, his real home rink, the dance studio, the ocean.

 _He wanted to go home._

Yuuri cried and cried, letting the water of the shower wash away his tears and snot, until he felt like he had no more tears left in his wrung-out body to cry.He unfolded slowly, reaching up to turn off the water.His vision swam a little when he stood quickly, his head heavy and his hands shaking.Yuuri was numb as he toweled off and got dressed again in his street clothes before leaving the locker room with his chin dipped low.

***

Viktor’s world was  _ending_.

For so long, he had pinned his brand, his identity, every ounce of his self-worth, on his ability to win.And now, on the heels of his worst free skate in literally  _years,_  he could no longer skate.The doctor had said so- absolutely no skating on a broken ankle.And if Viktor couldn’t skate, Viktor couldn’t win.And if he couldn’t win… then what was the point, even?

Viktor held it together until Yakov dropped him off at his apartment and helped him manage his crutches with the elevator before leaving him alone with strict orders to rest and recover.But as soon as the door closed behind the coach Viktor dropped his crutches and sank to the ground, curled around his horrible, clunky cast, sobbing.

Makkachin, the sweet and lovely girl that she was, padded over and sniffed at Viktor before licking his cheek.That just made Viktor cry harder, and he held his patient poodle to his chest and bawled into her curly fur.“Makkachin,” he whispered when the tears finally,  _finally_  slowed.“What am I going to do now?”

Makkachin licked his cheek again and yipped softly.Viktor sniffled, wiping at his nose.His breath caught in the back of throat when he caught sight of his medal cabinet in the corner of the living room, the medal cabinet that he would probably never contribute to again, but he managed not to burst into tears again.

Makkachin pawed at his arm before carefully sniffing at his cast.Viktor took a deep shuddering breath.“You’re probably hungry,” he whispered, his voice a little raw.Makkachin boofed softly in agreement, and Viktor nodded.“OK,” he said.“OK.”He managed to struggle to his feet after scooting over to the door to pull himself up, and hopped on one foot to where his crutches lay on the floor.

It took a little maneuvering to pull Makkachin’s food out and pour some into her bowl without spilling it everywhere, but Viktor managed to drop only a few stray kibbles that Makkachin quickly gobbled up.Viktor left his dog eating in the kitchen and hobbled into the bathroom, turning on the light and staring at himself in the mirror.His face was still flushed from crying, his eyes red-rimmed and the skin under his nose raw, and a few tangled strands of long hair stuck to his too-big, sweaty forehead.

Viktor choked back another surprising sob, and leaned his crutches against the wall before supporting himself on the edge of the bathroom counter.“Nice going, Nikiforov,” he whispered, glaring at himself in the mirror.“You’ve really fucked it up this time.”His reflection glared back, looking young and petulant and  _pathetic._ He huffed out an angry breath and then with shaking fingers opened one of the bathroom drawers and pulled out a pair of scissors.He grabbed a hank of hair and tugged it away from his face, holding it out straight.

Viktor barely hesitated before making the first cut, hacking furiously at his thick, long hair until the handful in his grasp was suddenly completely separated from his head.Viktor stared down at the limp silver strands in his fist and then slowly uncurled his fingers, letting the hair fall into the sink.“You’ve really fucked it up this time,” he whispered again, and then set about cutting off the rest of his hair, evening it out as best he could, leaving only his bangs long enough to sweep over his eyes.

Viktor could barely look at himself in the mirror when he was finished, and settled for staring down at the heaps of damp, tangled silver hair in the sink.He looked up, just once, and hardly recognized the figure that stared back at him.

“I guess this is the new me, now,” Viktor mumbled, suddenly exhausted, and shut off the bathroom light.

***

Yuuri managed to make it back to his hotel room in Sochi, where he could cry in peace without being harassed by tiny, aggressive Russians, before breaking down.He kicked off his shoes and wriggled under the covers of his unmade bed, his vision blurry, before scrambling for his phone.With trembling fingers he unlocked it and opened his text conversation with his sister, her last message still unanswered.Desperately, Yuuri scrolled up until he found the last picture of Vicchan that Mari had sent him, a good luck photo with one of his medals from Juniors draped around the poodle’s neck.

Yuuri’s body shook with a helpless sob and he curled in on himself, clutching his phone so hard that the corner of the case cracked in his grip.These, the occasional photos and videos his family sent him, were the only thing Yuuri had left of Vicchan.His dog was  _dead,_  and Yuuri hadn’t even  _been_  there-

Yuuri’s hand shook and with great effort he loosened his grip, the phone slipping out of his fingers to land on the mattress.The screen dimmed before the photo of his puppy disappeared as the phone went to sleep.

Yuuri buried his face in his pillow, his breathing harsh and ragged, his chest hollow.God, it  _hurt,_  it hurt so much- Had Vicchan been in pain, when he had died?Had he even known what had happened?Had he ever hated Yuuri for abandoning him, for moving across the world and never coming back?Yuuri hated  _himself_  enough for the both of them… he had abandoned Vicchan, abandoned the sweet dog that had been nothing but loyal to him for  _years,_  to chase the dreams that seemed forever just out of reach, and now he had failed in front of the world and Vicchan was  _gone._

The pillow under Yuuri’s cheek was wet and gross with tears and snot, and in a fit of frustration Yuuri flung it away from him, hearing it hit the ground on the other side of the bed.He sat up and covered his face with his hands, tears leaking through his fingers.He was acting like a goddam  _child_.But he couldn’t stop crying, even as his eyes itched and his throat grew sore.He was a failure, a flop… he had absolutely nothing to show for all his time away except for a few meager medals in the senior division and a demonstration that he really  _didn’t_  deserve to skate on the same ice as his dog’s namesake.He was probably a laughingstock of the skating world after his humiliating free skate, but Yuuri couldn’t even make himself care.

After what felt like a long time Yuuri ran out of tears to cry and just lay on the bed, staring blankly up at the hotel room ceiling.A knock on the door snapped him out of his empty, hollow trance, and after a long moment he heaved himself out of bed to answer it.

Coach Celestino stood in the doorway, a worried frown on his lips, and Yuuri was suddenly aware that it was probably painfully obvious how much he had been crying.“Hey, Yuuri,” Celestino said gently.“How are you feeling?”

Yuuri sighed heavily and wiped at his face, grimacing.“I’m fine,” he mumbled.

Celestino seemed utterly unconvinced.“The banquet is in a couple of hours,” he said quietly.“But you don’t have to go.I’m more than happy to cover for you if you’d prefer to stay in tonight.”

Yuuri paused, considering that.The chance to return to his bed and cry on and off for the rest of the night was incredibly tempting, and yet… “I’ll come,” Yuuri sighed heavily.

Celestino pursed his lips.“Are you sure?”

Yuuri nodded.“Let me clean up.”

“Alright,” Celestino said, sounding a little dubious, but let Yuuri go.

Yuuri closed the hotel room door with a sigh, leaning against it.He was already regretting his decision to venture from his hotel room.Viktor would be at the banquet… not that he would recognize Yuuri anyway, it seemed.Yuuri leaned his head back against the door.At least there would probably be alcohol.Yuuri could get horribly, wonderfully drunk.

And then, maybe then, he would forget how much everything hurt.

***

Viktor cried himself to sleep that first night in Hasetsu.

Maybe his expectations had been a little too high, to be fair.In his longing, indulgent daydreams he had imagined that Yuuri would welcome him with open arms, eager to see him again after how well they had clicked at the Sochi banquet.He had imagined that Yuuri would be excited, would want to start planning how they would train immediately, after how ardently the other skater had begged for him at the banquet.He had hoped, feverishly, that Yuuri might even let Viktor kiss him, or maybe they would go to bed together and fall asleep in each other’s arms.He had expected, at least, that Yuuri would  _want_  him there, or why would he have skated Viktor’s routine so beautifully?

What he  _hadn’t_  imagined, wanted, hoped, expected, was the way that Yuuri flinched.The way that Yuuri gawped at him, as though he had never again expected to see Viktor.The way Yuuri shied away from his touch, avoided his eyes, stammered and stuttered like he was scared of Viktor, even leapt away when Viktor tried to reach out.

Yuuri seemed so _different_.At the banquet he had been charming, flirtatious, enchanting _._ Definitely interested in Viktor, in more ways than one.And now he seemed alarmed at the very idea of Viktor coaching him.Viktor just didn’t understand _._

So, once he had been shown his room and Yuuri had refused his offer to sleep together (really sleep! Despite what the tabloids said, Viktor wasn’t really the type for sex before the first date), Viktor settled down with his dog in his arms and his phone in his hands.Makkachin, sweet and loyal as always, curled up against Viktor’s chest and rested her head against his side, her breathing slow and steady.

Viktor took a deep breath, gave his dog a small squeeze, and then opened the album of photos on his phone that he had saved from the Sochi banquet.He flicked through a couple- Yuuri dancing with a bottle of champagne in one fist, Yuuri on his hands mid breakdance, Yuuri climbing the pole with his shirt unbuttoned and his pants obviously missing- before he found the ones he wanted.He and Yuuri were dancing, both grinning, Viktor looking as smitten as anything as Yuuri dipped him.Yuuri was holding him tight, mid spin, the sleeves of their shirts rolled up and the tails of Viktor’s shirt hanging out.Viktor had his suit jacket held out like a cape, with a bull-like Yuuri playfully charging him.

Viktor looked through four photos before his breath caught in his chest, and he deliberately turned the device all the way off and laid it beside him.Makkachin whined curiously before settling down again, and Viktor carefully regulated his breathing, trying not to hyperventilate.He felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes and gritted his teeth.

He would  _not_  cry, Viktor promised himself, even as he felt a couple of droplets run down his cheeks, dripping off his nose onto his pillow.He was being silly.There was absolutely no way he could have misinterpreted what Yuuri wanted- Yuuri’s skate of his routine had been an invitation, just as clear as his invitation at the banquet!

He would just have to hope that he was right, that Yuuri really wanted him there after all. He would just have to hope that he hadn’t come for nothing.

***

 _Let’s end this_ , Yuuri had said.And Viktor had cried.And then he had left the room, gone back into the bathroom, and had shut the door behind him with a sickeningly final thud.

The lights were still off in there, but Yuuri could hear Viktor moving around from time to time, shifting things around.Maybe he was doing his makeup in the dark, or pacing in circles as he was wont to do sometimes when he was upset.Who knew.

Yuuri covered his own face with a pillow and exhaled, long and slow, his mind whirling with barely-controlled panic.He had made Viktor cry.He had made  _Viktor_ , quite possibly one of the people Yuuri cared most about in the world,  _cry._

Yuuri found himself fighting back tears of his own and pressed the pillow harder against himself.Wasn’t this what Viktor had wanted?Wasn’t this what they had agreed, that Viktor would coach him until the Grand Prix Finals? So why was his coach so upset?

Yuuri squeezed his eyes shut even in the darkness under the pillow and fought back tears.He tried not to think of the shock, the hurt, the anger, that had flashed across Viktor’s face when Yuuri had spoken. _Let’s end this._

Unless… Viktor had thought that Yuuri wanted to end  _them_.End their  _love_.

Yuuri felt something wet roll down his cheek and drip into his ear, and realized he was crying.Just as Viktor had cried, not ten minutes ago, now Yuuri was crying.Did he even have the  _right_  to cry?

Yuuri rolled onto his side and clutched the pillow to his chest, burying his face in the bed’s quilt.God, he had made Viktor  _cry_.He was the absolute worst person on the  _planet_.And Viktor was probably sitting in the bathroom crying, or maybe not… he probably hated Yuuri, didn’t want anything to do with him after how badly Yuuri had fucked up…

Another sob escaped, and Yuuri pressed his face hard into the pillow to muffle it.He couldn’t let Viktor know that he was crying, not after Yuuri had made such a horrible blunder, had upset Viktor so badly.Of _course_ Viktor had cried, if he thought that Yuuri was trying to get rid of him, end their relationship… not two hours after Yuuri had all but  _proposed_.

With shaking hands Yuuri pulled the pillow off his face and held his right hand out in front of him, staring at the golden ring sparkling on his finger.He considered, just for a moment, whether or not he should take the ring off, but even the thought of doing so made his stomach churn.Maybe Viktor hated him.Maybe Viktor would go along with the breakup that Yuuri hadn’t intended to instigate.But… it hurt too much to even think about accepting that they were through.

Yuuri’s heart felt like it was cracking in his chest, breaking at the thought of how he had hurt Viktor, how he might have messed up one of the best things that had ever happened to him, and stood up abruptly, trembling.Yuuri got ready for bed numbly, slipping under the covers when he was done and turning off the lights.

He hadn’t heard Viktor move in the bathroom in a while, but almost as soon as the lights flicked off the door opened and Viktor came out into the room.Yuuri lay still where he was, his back to Viktor, and squeezed his eyes shut.He heard Viktor rustle around before getting into his own bed without saying a word.

Yuuri swallowed hard, clenching his fingers on his blanket, and tried to keep his crying as quiet as possible.He was nearly sure that Viktor did the same.

Neither of them said another word that night.

***

Viktor had thought that he was over the whole  _feeling empty_  thing.He knew, intellectually, that being in a relationship wasn’t a cure-all.After all, despite how happy he and Yuuri were together, Yuuri still struggled with anxiety.

But, one morning about a month after Worlds, when Viktor woke up with a horrible pit of emptiness in his stomach, he could have cried.He had thought he was  _fine._

Viktor kept his eyes closed even as he came to full wakefulness, desperate to ignore the pointless, meaningless  _sadness_  that weighed on his shoulders.The blankets of his bed were warm around his shoulders, and he could tell both by the light leaking through his eyelids and the soft, slow breathing of his husband behind him that it was still fairly early in the morning.

Viktor pressed his lips together and turned over, opening his eyes.Yuuri was still sleeping beside him, his cheeks a little flushed, his hair a mussed nest, a tiny smile on his lips.It  _terrified_  Viktor that not even the sight of his beautiful, sweet, wonderful husband was enough to completely dispel the emptiness inside him, and he choked back a sob.

It was suddenly not enough,  _too much_ , and Viktor slid out of bed as quickly as possible without disturbing his Yuuri.He thought he might have heard Yuuri shift, maybe mumble something, but the bathroom door was shutting behind Viktor before he could be sure.

Viktor sank to the floor of the bathroom and leaned his head back against the wall, exhaling slowly.Tears still pricked at his eyes, something overwhelming and unidentifiable rising in his chest and into his throat, but before he could break down he got to his feet and fumbled to turn on the water in the shower.If he was going to cry (and crying seemed inevitable, he felt), he didn’t want Yuuri to hear.

Viktor mechanically undressed, leaving his pajama pants and underwear in a heap on the floor, and then stepped into the shower.He stood, motionless, as the water hit his face.Maybe Viktor cried, but he couldn’t begin to tell the difference between his tears and the shower water as they streamed down his face.After a while he found that he didn’t have enough energy to stand, and slumped to sit on the floor, his spine curved and his chin dipped even as the water continued to pound down around him.

He didn’t look up when a knock echoed on the bathroom door, almost drowned out by the water, and then the door opened quietly to let Yuuri in.Viktor thought about standing up, plastering a smile on his face for his husband, but before he could Yuuri was in the shower beside him, kneeling under the water without regard for the shirt and pants he was still wearing.

“Vitya?” Yuuri said, his voice soft despite the loud water.Viktor looked up slowly, and Yuuri must have seen something in his eyes.

“Do you want me to leave?” Yuuri asked, and Viktor’s heart skipped a beat.He shook his head slowly, and managed to move his arm, to grab the edge of Yuuri’s sopping wet sleeve.

“Can I hug you?” Yuuri asked, his voice still gentle, and Viktor nodded.Yuuri shuffled so that he was next to Viktor, and then tenderly gathered Viktor into his arms.

Viktor melted against his husband, burying his face in Yuuri’s chest, his shoulders shaking as he cried.Yuuri held him patiently, gently, rubbing small circles on his back and murmuring quiet endearments in Japanese, English, accented Russian.Viktor’s tears ran out before the water did, and he lifted his head to look up at Yuuri.Yuuri smiled slightly and reached up, turning off the shower.The sudden silence was a little jarring, and Viktor couldn’t help but flinch.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Yuuri asked, holding Viktor’s hand and lacing their fingers together.

Viktor grimaced bitterly.“There’s nothing to talk about,” he replied.“I’m being stupid.”

Yuuri cupped his face in one hand, his thumb brushing a tear off Viktor’s cheek.“You’re not being stupid,” he said quietly.“I promise.”

Viktor wiped roughly at one eye as more tears welled up.“There’s no reason for me to feel like… this.I’m sorry you have to see this.”

“Vitya,” Yuuri said, and Viktor was sure his heart swelled at how much love was in his husband’s voice.“I love you when you’re sad just as much as I love you when you’re happy,” Yuuri murmured.“I’m here when you need a shoulder to cry on.”

Viktor took a deep, shuddering breath, bit his lip.The cold emptiness in him cracked a little bit, just for a moment.“Hold me?” he whispered, his voice tentative.

Yuuri smiled, scooted closer.“Always.”

Viktor relaxed again when Yuuri’s arms slid around him, holding him close.

He still felt sad, empty, and he knew that it would probably take him a little while to feel less empty again.But it was so much nicer, now, to know that even when he felt empty that he wouldn’t be by himself.He had his Yuuri.

Neither of them had to cry alone anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ~~listen this was kind of cathartic ok~~
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed! feel free to comment or talk to me [here](https://iwritebetterthanispeak.tumblr.com/), and I hope you have a good day, dear reader!


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